Harry Potter and the Power of Puberty
by FrancoGamerxz
Summary: Harry Potter spends the best summer imaginable between 3rd and 4th years of Hogwarts, and not a small part of it is due to a certain discovery: "Girls!" Watch how this single, seemingly simple discovery changes everything.


**Disclaimer: not mine**

Harry Potter was having the best summer he could remember so far.

It all started with Sirius deciding to drop by Privet Drive to have a little chat with the Dursleys right before Hogwarts finished for Harry's 3rd year. Knowing that Harry's godfather was a 'deranged, sociopathic mass-murderer', and that he was very protective of the boy, had the Dursley family treating Harry... better.

Well, they wouldn't be winning any 'family of the year' awards, but they didn't force him to do chores, or 'forget' to feed him for the duration of the summer, neither did they try to lock away his Hogwarts materials, or hurt them in any way.

Having the opportunity to actually work on his summer homework instead of having to make up something half-assed during the train trip back and the first night in the castle, he decided to knock them out as soon as possible. With the aid of his books, and the notes that he had - most of them taken by Hermione and copied and given to him - he managed to finish everything off in a week.

Having taken care of that, he thought for a while about what he'd do, and he decided to spend some time around Surrey, enjoying the city without having to worry about Dudley's group of thugs. This choice lead Harry to an earth-shattering revelation.

 _ **Girls**_.

This discovery made Harry hate robes more than ever before. The bountiful, bouncing bust of a 16 year old blonde forcibly knocked Harry forward, completely jumping over the ass-end of the 'period of ignorance', where you simply didn't notice girls because you were too focused on things that boys found important, like sports teams, magical animal fights and fart competitions, and firmly into the ' _revelation_ ' period, where you want to bash yourself over the head for the stupidity of not noticing girls before.

He also made another, very important discovery.

 _Girls loved bad boys_.

It seems that teenage girls had a natural inclination to try to get together with the type of boys that their parents wouldn't approve of, and Harry, having been to ' _St. Brutus' Academy for the Criminally Insane_ ' according to the Dursleys, was pretty much a babe magnet.

His bright, green eyes probably had something to do with it as well.

Harry, being the painfully shy boy that he was, couldn't really articulate more than a few words without stuttering, or just barely avoid shoving his foot up his mouth. That, added to his lack of connection to current events in the muggle side of things would have usually made said 'bad-boy hunting' girls pull away, right?

No, not really. Harry's honest, earnest, and often times painfully shy demeanour extremely endeared him to girls, causing them to naturally gravitate around him. If things had gone that way, he would've probably been put into the 'friends only', or 'cute little brother' cathegory for most of them.

It didn't. Like always, Murphy's Law tried to mess with Harry. As a group of girls talked to Harry, enjoying his flustered, blushing demeanor, his honest compliments, and the times where he lost control of his eyes, only to jerk back into attention and look away, a group of hooligans approached.

They were starting to get annoyed at the Potter boy, as day after day, more and more girls flocked over to him, which meant less girls to them. They decided that public humiliation would change that.

They were three boys, their leader a skinny boy, his face and ears covered in various piercings to the point of looking like a pincushion, his hair saved on the sides and styled into a large, extremely gelled mohawk, and his clothes nothing more than an open leather vest stopping right above his bellybutton, exposing his torso almost in it's entirety, his legs within a pair of extremely tight leather pants that would guarantee his sterility in 3 years or less, and a pair of worn boots.

His companions were basically a pair of goons reminiscent of Crabbe and Goyle, except bigger, dumber and meaner-looking.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here boys?" started the mohawk boy "Ain't this that Potty toerag? That pussy that the Little Whinging boys used to wail on?"

To his surprise, the girls were the one to raise to Harry's defense, while the boy himself looked on passively, used to bullies of most kinds.

"Leave Harry alone, Crash!" It was Megan Nyers, a 15 year old redhead who spoke "He hasn't done anything to you!"

The now-named Crash raised an eyebrow, his hand going into one of his pants pockets, before he spoke.

"Don't get in the way, Nyers. My business is with Potty boy, I wouldn't want to hurt your pretty face."

Megan snorted derisively at that, crossing her arms over her chest before answering.

"As if you'd really hurt me. You're just a blowhard incapable of getting girls. That's why you're so envious of Harry."

A vein throbbed on Crash's forehead, before he withdrew his hand from his pants, revealing what seemed to be a leather-bound metallic square. Squeezing it, a sharp, shiny blade sprung into life, before he spoke again.

"What'd you say, bitch?"

Megan, stubborn as she was, didn't even hesitate, despite the knife in front of her.

"I said you're suffering of envy, Crash, now put away that knife. If that's an example of what you're packing, then it's no wonder that girls don't go your way."

After that, everything happened very fast.

Crash turned a shade of red previously unseen, a combination of a sneer and a snarl on his face. Having seen the face, and with both his 'saving people thing' and his 'danger sense' screaming loudly, Harry pushed Megan out of the way, right before Crash's knife whistle through the air with the intent of hurting the girl.

Crash was aiming for Megan's face, trying to disfigure her as a lesson, but since she was taller than Harry, the boy-who-couldn't-catch-a-break got a thin slash, right in the middle of his scar.

Now, there's something about himself that Harry never noticed. Whenever the going gets tough, when people would usually run away, or crumble under the pressure, Harry seemed to gain an air of determination, reflective of his inner strength. To Harry, it was just a feeling of detached calmness flooding over his mind, sharpening his thoughts and instincts, but to others who looked from the outside, they'd tell you that, despite his small body size, thin glasses and usual shyness, he gained a sort of presence that filled the room, and reassured those on his side.

His shoulders squared, his jaw set, his fists clenched, and he automatically shifted to the balls of his feet, previously giving those looking at him a glimpse of a cornered, yet small animal, not too visibly threatening, but with the determination and instincts to survive at all costs.

With the way the blood flew freely down his forehead, covering his face, the way his face was locked in an almost-snarl, and the body language he exuded, added to the murderous look in his eyes that Crash could have _sworn_ were actually backlit, reminded everyone about the fact that Harry was supposedly studying at an academy for criminally insane children.

Seeing the one who almost stabbed him frozen, and having learnt his lessons from both Memory-mort dying due to monologuing in the chamber, and of Pettigrew escaping due to his hesitation and indecision, Harry didn't think twice.

He shoulder-checked Crash in the gut, winding the boy and causing him to release his pocketknife. As it fell, Harry used his seeker reflexes to snatch it out of the air, and gripped it tightly. In a smooth motion that he often saw Angeline pull with her broom to knock quaffles away during a few pick-up games, Harry spun around and sweeped the feet off under Crash.

Before the bookends could react, Harry had already exploded into motion, kicking one of them as hard as he possibly could in the nards, before pressing the tip of the pocketknife into the gut of the other one.

In the deafening silence that filled the park they were in, Harry's hissed words reverberated with everyone on a very deep level.

"I've spent most of my life being pushed around by bullies, people who think they're hot shit, and try to mess with those they see as weaker than them for reasons as petty as 'simply being in the mood to'. I don't usually really care when it's me, but you go after my friends, and we'll have problems. I'll let you go this time, but you try to fuck with me again and I'll have you singing soprano, hear me?"

Harry punctuated that by tossing the knife at the grounded form of Crash, just shy of what made him a man.

The three boys shot him terrified looks before getting up and bolting, the pocketknife being forgotten after the threat, while Harry was inwardly relieved that he managed to nail that knife toss, or he'd look like a real fool in front of all these girls.

He turned around to look at them, seeing... something... in the eyes of a few of the girls that he couldn't identify, but made him feel really good inside for whatever reason.

He took a step towards the girls before his vision swam, his foot caught on a treerot and he fell forward, his head, and more specifically, his scar, being wedged open further by a sharp stone. All he managed to register before losing consciousness was a loud, inhuman shriek, and then... Black.

 _ **-1 week Later-**_

The first thing that Harry registered was the fact that he was in a soft bed. The second thing was the sterile smell of a medical institution.

' _So I'm in the hospital..._ '

Drawing from the various years of pushing himself beyond his limits, Harry managed to pry his eyes open despite how heavy they felt, wincing at the bright light, and the overwhelming amount of white, that filled his vision.

Forcing himself to look up, Harry noticed that he wasn't, as he half-expected, in the Hogwarts medical wing, under the tender mercies of Poppy Pomphrey.

If the beeping heart-rate monitor next to him was any indication, he was in a Muggle hospital.

' _Muggle sounds a bit bad, though, especially now that I have more examples of them than the Dursleys._ '

This random thought traveled through Harry's mind, but he shrugged it off very quickly when he heard the sound of a door opening.

A beautiful woman, black, short hair, blue eyes, soft, rounded face, pouty lips and a button nose garbed in a nurse's outfit made her way into the room. As soon as she saw Harry awake, she sent him a bright smile that had the boy blushing lightly, a warm feeling filling his stomach.

"If I knew you worked here, I'd make sure to get hurt more often." - was what Harry would have liked to say, but it came out more like a mixture of a cough and a half-wheeze. Noticing his bone-dry throat and mouth, Harry was about to ask for water, only for the nurse, her nametag reading Angela - oddly fitting - to place a straw on his lips, and smiling encouragingly at him.

Harry wrapped his lips around the straw and slowly gulped down the water afforded to him, the cottony feeling disappearing from his mouth. He spoke up, his throat sore from disuse causing him to speak haltingly.

"What... Happened... where..."

Before he could finish, Angela placed a soft hand on top of his own, before speaking up.

"You're in the St. Gregory of Brogue private clinic, owned by the Nyers family. After you were first placed here, miss Megan told her father of what caused you to collapse. He decided to pay for the entirety of your hospital stay. After the blow to the forehead, a biopsy of your scar was made and it was revealed to be cancerous tissue. It was removed in an emergency surgery. Based on what we were told by neighbours, and the Dursleys, you've had this since you were a young child.

It's a miracle that the cancerous tissue never progressed beyond your scar, but the prediction for you waking up after the removal of something that's been with you for such a long time was 2 months minimum. You are just full of surprises, aren't you, mister Potter?"

Harry could only gape disbelievingly at the woman.

His scar was cancerous? He had a killing-curse induced cancer scar on his forehead for 12 freaking years, and despite Poppy telling him over and over again that she couldn't remove it, Mugg- _Mundane_ doctors were able to get rid of it?

Seeing the bewildered look on the boy's face, Angela took pity on him and offered him a hand mirror. Harry managed to sit up after a few minutes of struggling, and took the mirror into his hands. Parting one of his bangs, he almost cried in relief when he saw the faint white bolt where there used to be raw, angry flesh.

Something else in his reflex froze Harry. His eyes.

No, he wasn't going to wax poetically about how his eyes were the most beautiful pair of eyeballs in existance, crafted by Aphrodite herself from a piece of seastone offered by Poseidon. They were good-looking, but that wasn't what got his attention right now.

It was the fact that they were bare. There was no glass barrier between his eyes and the mirror, there was no thin, rounded frame over his ears and nose, nothing. He was seeing perfectly without his glasses.

' _Maybe an effect of the scar?_ '

Shrugging off those thoughts, Harry's demeanor changed when he thought back on what the nurse said. He turned his eyes on the woman, not noticing the way she froze lightly and her cheeks pinked at the intensity reflected in them, before speaking up.

"How are the girls? Are they okay? No injuries? And how's Megan?"

Seeing the earnest worry in the boy's intense, _beautiful eyes_... ' _No! Down, girl! Bad Angela!_ '... Angela found herself compelled to respond.

"They're okay. A bit shaken up about what happened to you, but none of them are injured."

Harry sunk back into his bed in relief, an involuntary call of "Thank God" leaving his lips, before his stomach growled. Loudly.

The boy-who-no-longer-had-the-scar's head jerked towards Angela, hoping that she didn't notice, with a blush coming over his face as he saw the nurse openly giggling at him, before speaking up.

"I'll bring you a tray of food soon, mr. Potter. Meanwhile, you should prepare yourself for a flood of well-wishers. With you waking up, your friends will be tripping over themselves to try and see you."

With those words, Angela left the room. Not five minutes later, a stampede resounded through the hospital as no less than 7 girls barged into Harry's room, all of them looking over him worriedly, and, as soon as they saw nothing wrong with him, hungrily.

Harry was told that when the authorities got into contact with the Dursleys over what happened, they tried to play it off as their 'good-for-nothing nephew commiting one of the usual felonies'. With the Nyers family, who was apparently a very influential one - who would've known that the sheltered, rich girls went after the bad boys the most - explaining what truly happened and how Harry saved a group of innocent, teenaged girls from a 'mob of armed ruffians' at the cost of his own injury, the reputation that Harry Potter held as a 'criminally-inclined lunatic' in the eyes of the adults of Little Whinging suddenly evaporated, causing the social stock of the Dursleys themselves to plummet to the depths of Tartarus.

His reputation among the teens had skyrocketed, however, when the stories about how he easily beat up a small army of hardcore ex-convicts armed with pipes, knives and hammers in order to protect the girls around him spread. The most popular part was the part when he 'Stared at the downed leader, his foot on the man's throat, a dangerous look in his eyes and a livid one in his face, before threatening him if he ever even looked at "his girls" funny, causing the man to void his bowels before moving his entire gang out of the city'.

It was mindboggling how these things gained a mind of their own.

Harry didn't manage to get a word in for the entire duration of the visit, doing his best to absorb what he'd been told until Angela went back into the room with a tray of food, a bowl of chicken soup and a loaf of bread on it. She was forced to kick the girls out when they almost physically brawled for the right to feed him.

Seeing the food, Harry was reminded of just how hungry he felt, devastating the soup and bread in a few minutes, before asking for seconds. Surprised by his hardy stomach, Angela had taken him another tray of food, this time solid - grilled chicken, white rice and salad - which Harry procceeded to also obliterate, before asking for thirds.

He was finally satisfied after his fifth meal, before being hit with a wave of drowsiness, and falling asleep almost instantly.

For the next two weeks, this was Harry's life.

Chat with the nurses that were attending to him for that day, flirt shamelessly with them - albeit unknowingly - eating like a starved dog, enjoy the company of the girls during visiting hours.

Much too soon, his stay at the hospital was about to end.

During those two weeks of rest and healthcare, Harry had put on quite a few pounds of muscle, and had shot up like a weed to a respectable 5'6", giving him a decideddly athletic build, toned arms, defined 6-pack, the whole 9 yards, endearing the girls to him further, and increasing the hungry looks he got that had him more than just a bit flattered.

Today, once again, Angela was the one taking care of him, though he noticed the fact that she was a bit sad. He was more than just a bit sad as well, he'd made some of his best memories during those two weeks in the hospital - and if that wasn't a worrying concept, I don't know what is - and he knew that he was going to miss the various nurses and doctors that he had the pleasure of talking to.

After the usual day of flirting with his nurse - and this day he did a lot of flirting as many other nurses seemed to just find a reason or another to be in his room at all times - having his room invaded by well-wishers, and eating like a starved dog, the doctor gave him his medical discharge.

It seemed that someone had misplaced the clothes that he had been wearing that day, and every other piece that the Dursleys brought for him, few as they were, so the hospital was forced to buy him a whole new wardrobe.

This lead to arguments amongst the staff about who would be the one to take Harry's measurements, with a younger, more recently employed blonde with the name Estelle sneaking off during the 'battle' to actually measure Harry.

The responsibility to dress Harry up was given to Megan and her friends, and the fact that it was a group of teenage girls being told to get a complete wardrobe with nigh-unlimited funds - Malcolm Nyers wouldn't skimp out on helping the saviour of his dear daughter - lead to Harry having enoug clothing to not have to repeat a shit or jacket for two months or more, every single season.

Harry choked when he saw the total price of things, but unlike his usual self, he didn't try to refuse the gift he was given, or anything of the sort. He simply accepted in the spirit it was intended to have been given.

So it was a new, better Harry, freed of a weight that he couldn't describe, his mind clearer, body good as new and wardrobe orgasmic, that made his way out of the hospital, giving a friendly wave and smile at the nice nurses that took care of him.

He _was_ a bit worried, however, as a sudden illness that caused every girl around him to randomly turn red seemed to have spread across the entire hospital.

 _ **-Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey-**_

Harry's return to no. 4 was... Odd, at best. When he stepped into the neighbourhood, he saw the adults actually smiling and waving at him, and girls taking a good, long look at him, before blushing, a dangerous look entering their eyes. Fearing that the redness disease would spread to him, he quickly made his way into the Dursley household.

He completely bypassed the Dursleys, not noticing the angry look in Vernon's eyes, the confused on in Dudley's and the thougtful one in Petunia's, making way straight to his room.

Imagine his surprise when he found the rest of the clothes the girls had described to him all neatly organized inside of a whole new dresser/wardrobe combination, all the way to his socks and underpants, alongside a whole new bed, this one without the stray, broken spring poking out, a work desk with a computer on it, a full-body mirror and even a whole new stand for Hedwig.

Shrugging it off, Harry made for his accumulated mail, finding the usual letters from Hermione detailing her vacation, going to a beach resort of some sort in France and asking him about his own vacation, and more than a few of the usual nonsensical, friendly banter letters from Ron and the twins.

A particular letter caught his eye, in it Mr. Weasley mentioned having tickets for the Quidditch World Cup Finals and swinging around to pick him up a week after his birthday if he wanted to go.

Harry wasted no time in composing a letter showing his eagerness to go, but before he could send it, he caught sight of Hermione's latest letter. Sitting down at his new desk, Harry forewent the use of Ink and Quill, using instead one of the gold-beaked fountain pens he had been gifted with - seriously, the Nyers' were just spoiling him by now - to compose a letter for Hermione.

' _Dear Hermione_

 _I'm still alive and out of trouble._

 _With that taken out of the way, I can continue. I had a pretty good summer here in Privet Drive (No, really!). After Padfoot had a word with the Dursleys, they pretty much left me alone. This gave me the time to work on my homework (which I finished entirely on my first week and you should be very proud of me), and then spend some free time getting acquainted with Surrey in general._

 _I hung around quite a bit, met new people, made new friends, it was pretty good. But, as things tend to happen, a 'Potter' situation came up. A few hooligans tried to hurt my new friends, and my 'Saving people thing' made itself known. I got a bit hurt and spent a week in a hospital, unconscious._

 _Books, classes, Hogwarts a History._

 _Now that my previous words have calmed you down, I'll continue on with my tale._

 _I got nicked in the scar, and it was bleeding quite a bit, so I passed out. The doctors examined it and determined it to be cancerous, so they operated on me. Guess what? I no longer have the ruddy thing! I've been feeling better ever since, as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders._

 _Colours are brighter, scents are more pleasant, food tastes better, and I feel like I can think more clearly than ever before!_

 _The hospital misplaced my clothes, so it paid for replacements, and I no longer have to wear Dudley's cast-offs, but enough about me._

 _How're you doing in France? I'm ashamed to say that I don't really remember you telling me exactly where you'd be going (oops?), so... Sorry._

 _I'd ask if you already finished you summer homework, but it'd probably just idignate and anger you, and an angry Hermione Granger isn't something I really want to deal with. As Ron said before, 'Brilliant, but Scary'._

 _Mr. Weasley sent me a letter about having tickets for the Quidditch World Cup, and said that he'd be picking me up a bit after my birthday. Will you be going as well?_

 _I hope you have fun on your vacation._

 _Love, Harry._ '

Not even bothering to double-check the letter, his mind telling him that he was accurate in everything he wrote, Harry missed the last line that he wrote reflexively. He folded the piece of parchment over, sealing it in an envelope before adressing it to Hermione and giving it to Hedwig alongside the ones meant for the Weasleys.

"You know what to do, girl."

Seeing Hedwig's nod, Harry chuckled as he gave the scarily inteligent owl a treat, before opening the window and letting it fly off.

He was surprised by the tentative knocks on the door, before Petunia's voice sounded in a hesitant tone.

" _B_ -Harry... We're about to have dinner... Do you want to join us?"

Gobsmacked by the invitation, Harry absentmindedly muttered out a "No, thank you" before sitting down on his bed.

Deciding to put this incident behind him, Harry sat down in front of his new computer, turning it on and attempting to get the hang of making it work. A dial-up phone chord had been put in the room, giving Harry internet access.

He decided to research about this new illness affecting the girls around him, causing them to heat up red with fever, blush uncontrolably, and occasionally give out disturbing sounding giggles, and what he found floored him.

Girls reacted like that when they liked boys? So, was it possible that all those girls, pretty nurses included, liked him?

Previously, Harry would've disregarded that notion out of reflex, and then it'd be lost in the background noise that plagued his mind, but without the influence of the cursed scar, and with a new sense of self-worth and self-esteem generated by the attention and friendliness given to him for this entire summer, he had the time to ruminate on the thought.

These thoughts kept bouncing around his head at tremendous speeds, giving Harry a headache, and causing some mental exhaustion. He decided to go on the internet, once again, to find a solution for it.

' _Meditation? Clearing your mind, and then picturing somewhere to store your thoughts so you can easily remember them... Sounds like one of those... Mnemonic devices, I think Hermione said they were. Things that help you remember things easier, like making short, rhyming sentences of things. Couldn't hurt to try._ '

So Harry, after making sure to remember all of the instructions, turned off his computer and sat down on his bed cross-legged, back straight and eyes closed. He started taking deep breaths, in, out, in, out, in, out. He tried picturing a while void, like the examples said, but he couldn't just stop the constant, dynamic flow of thoughts and ideas jetting through his head.

Remembering a passage speaking of different methods for different people, Harry decided to do something else.

Instead of picturing a white void, Harry started picking up the thoughts and ideas, following their trains of thought until they were suitably satisfied, before putting them aside. As he chased down the ideas, his mind constantly on the move, he felt himself relax more and more, recognizing that activity was more his thing than stillness.

Harry pulled out of his meditation, his eyes opening slowly, their momentaneous glow going unnoticed by the wizard, as he felt a deep sense of peace, and being well-rested cover him. Hearing the absence of noise around the house, Harry surmised it to be late in the night. Feeling his stomach calling for the dinner he skipped, Harry snuck out of his room, silently making his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, deciding to raid the fridge to make a sandwich, or something of the sort.

He was once again surprised, this time by the covered plate inside the fridge, a card propped up next to it.

' _Harry, I couldn't help but notice you missed dinner, so I set aside your portion so you could eat later. You can simply heat it up in the microwave oven if needed._

 _Petunia._ '

Once again, Harry was gobsmacked.

Petunia, being considerate of him? _Petunia_?

Things were just way too bizarre nowadays. Girls interested in him, eating proper food, him being taller, Petunia being considerate... Harry was almost sure this was just a big dream, and that he'd be waking up soon to find out that he was locked back in his room, being fed through a catflap.

Shrugging off those darker thoughts, Harry re-heated his food, digging into it with gusto, before going back to his room. Changing into his new bedclothes, Harry meditated for a bit more, before going to sleep.

 _ **-Following Day-**_

Despite sleeping at probably 2 AM at best, Harry woke up energetic and raring to go at the ungodly hour of 6:00 AM. Deciding that he wouldn't be going back to sleep, and that he was too pumped up to laze around, Harry did his morning rituals, put on a tracksuit, fixed himself some breakfast and then left the Dursley Household, going for a run around the area.

Previously, Harry was a speed type of guy, managing good bursts for relatively short periods, with a quick recovery. The rare life-threatening occasion where he seemed to run a marathon without breaking a sweat, it was probably his magic affecting him.

Today, he just ran, and ran, and ran, and he couldn't feel that burning on the lungs, or legs, that signaled short-breath and fatigue.

In fact, the longer he pushed himself, the better he felt. He wouldn't know it, but Harry was on a workout high, with his brain releasing a high amount of endorphins.

He stopped by a store, buying a bottle of water, and ended up bumping into Natalie, an auburn-haired, brown-eyed girl, 5'3" in height, and a girl that he didn't really have much contact with before.

Natalie, feeling someone run into her back, turned around ready to lambast the perpetrator, only to freeze at the curious and apologetic look in the green eyes that were focused on her. She blushed lightly, before speaking demurely.

"H-hello, Harry."

Harry blinked.

"Hello... Natalie, right?" Seeing the girl nod in confirmation, Harry gained the confidence to continue "Didn't expect to see you out and about so early. What're you doing here?"

"Oh, my mother owns this store, so I usually swing by here all the time. It helps relieve boredom when I wake up early, and all my friends are asleep. How about you?"

Harry blinked once again, remembering what the internet said about blushing - ' _a sign of attraction_ ' - before speaking up.

"I woke up really early too, and I felt way too energetic to go back to sleep, so I decided to work out. I'm building up a good sweat, see?"

As he answered the question, Harry zipped down his tracksuit jacket, revealing a wet undershirt that clung to his body in a completely revealing fashion, causing Natalie's breath to hitch slightly, her eyes glazing over.

Seeing her glazed-over eyes, Harry decided to take a shot.

"Hey, Natalie, wanna go have some breakfast in that cafe in the corner?"

The girls shook her head, regaining her senses before accepting the invitation. The two spent a couple of pleasurable hours, before each went their own way. As Harry made his way back to No. 4 for a shower, he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Well, well, well, shy little Harry managed to progress past blushing and stuttering, and started actually talking to girls properly."

Harry turned around, seeing Megan giving him what seemed to be a half-annoyed, half-proud look, before a gleam went through her eye and she spoke up.

"You were good, for a regular guy. That's not enough. I promise that by the time you leave this place, Harry James Potter, me and the girls will have made you into the perfect boyfriend material!"

A shiver of trepidation went up Harry's spine at that declaration, foretelling of bad things to come.

 _ **-July 31st, 1994-**_

The day dawned bright and early for one Harry James Potter, now aged 14 years old. He stretched luxuriously on top of his bed, and thought back the the remainder of June, and the entirety of the July he had experienced.

Hermione had responded to his letter, telling him about how proud she was that he did his homework in time, how worried she was about his condition, how shocked she was to find out that his scar was literal cancer, how glad she was that it was removed, and somehow skirting about the actual location of her vacation, saying only that it was a private beach, and nothing more.

They had exchanged a few letters detailing their day-to-day affairs, and Harry could say that he and Hermione had gotten even closer. His letters with Ron were the same old as always, talking about food, the twins' pranks, and quidditch, more specifically the cup, and the chuddley cannons. The twins were exchanging mail with Harry as well, talking about prank ideas, with Harry telling them about mug-mundane prank sets, and promising them a few, and talking about the most sacred subject of all, _girls_.

Speaking of girls, Ginny, surprisingly, had also started exchanging letters with him. She was convinced to do it by the twins, and she started by thanking him for saving her in the chamber. Harry, noble as he was, said that he thought nothing for it, and that it was just the right thing to do. After a few more tentative letters, they had actually progressed to casual, friendly talk. They talked about quidditch, their hogwarts classes, teachers, and bit of everything else.

Also in the girls department, it seemed that Megan had roped the entirety of the single girls in Surrey, aged 13-17, to help her work Harry into 'Boyfriend Material'. He lost track of how many dates he went on, how many talks in bistros, how many picnics, shopping trips, and all sorts of things he went through. He took to it all like a duck to water, and he was the undisputed no. 1 catch in the entirety of the Surrey region. Rumors brewed of talks of sharing him, and harems, though Harry had absolutely no idea about said rumors.

What he _did_ have an idea of was the fact that Megan had told him to meet her in front of the Surrey primary school at 11 AM. At 8 AM he was already out of bed, and as he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, he felt a weird atmosphere lingering in the air.

Ignoring this odd feeling, Harry sat down at the kitchen table and waited for breakfast. He was surprised by the huge stack of pancakes that was slid onto his plate, the maple syrup reading 'Happy Birthday Harry' on top.

Settling his shocked gaze on Petunia, Harry watched the woman nervously fidget as she expected a reaction. The young man forced himself out of shock and gave her a small nod and smile, causing the woman to relax and actually give a tiny smile back.

Focusing on tearing into the pancakes, Harry almost choked when Vernon spoke up next.

"Happy Birthday, boy." The man spoke in a gruff tone, lacking the usual anger that it tended to convey. Ignoring Harry's obvious near-choke, Vernon pushed on "It's not everyday that a guy turns 14, it's a special occasion. So here, have this."

As he said this, Vernon placed a stack of Pound bills - £750! - next to Harry's hand, before continuing.

"Go out, buy yourself something, have some fun. Do something with this."

And like that, Vernon forced his eyes back to the newspaper, though he looked at Harry from the corner of his eyes.

Harry could only work his jaw uselessly for a while, actually gulping twice before he regained his voice.

"T-thank you, Uncle Vernon."

The man snorted gruffly, keeping his eyes on the newspaper, even as Harry tried to process through all of this. It was a bit easier due to his constant attempts at meditation, but it was still more than a bit surprising.

Another surprise came as Dudley actually pulled him into a hug, mumbled a quick "Happy Birthday, cousin", before shooting out of the house, presumably to meet his friends.

Harry finished his pancakes in silence before taking his cutlery to the sink. Petunia _offered to wash them for him_ , allowing him to move by the table, pocket the money, and make his way to the meeting spot with Megan in what amounted to a shocked silence, automatically giving out the occasional greeting to a passerby of the female gender.

As he reached the meeting spot, he was broken out of his shock by a _very tight_ hug by the busty 16 year old. Megan spoke right next to his ear, her warm breath and husky tone doing things to him that he didn't really think he could handle right now.

" _Happy Birthday, Harry~_ "

Harry shuddered in pleasure, managing to answer in a normal tone only due to the often-times cruel training the girls had subjected him to, in order to break him out of his shyness and get him flirting and bantering.

"Thank you very much, Megan. So, what do you have planned for today?"

Megan pulled back, giving Harry a mischievous smile before pulling out a black blindfold and dangling it off her fingers.

"It'll be a surprise, Harry."

Harry, his mind now functional, responded in a teasing tone.

"Oh my miss Nyers, a blindfold? Kinky of you... I like it."

The roguish grin he favored her with when he spoke up had Megan's stomach doing flips, and her quim heating up and drooling, but she managed to recover nicely - after a cough or two - and respond.

"Though I'm not... Averse... to that idea, we'll be doing something different today."

Megan proceeded to blindfold Harry, before guiding him to a car and having them drive off for hours. After the car stopped, Harry was guided blindly, hearing more than a few familliar giggles around him, before Megan pulled his blindfold off.

" **HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!** "

The Boy-Who-Conquered-Hearts was, once again, stumped. He had been taken to an amusement park, one of his childhood fantasies, only to be met with pretty much all of the girls that helped in his 'training', and all of the nurses from the clinic that had the free time to be present.

He swallowed the lump of emotion he felt to the best of his abilities, averting his tears, yet still speaking in an emotionally charged tone.

"I-... I don't know what to say. Thank you, all of you."

Many awwwww's were said, before the entire group got VIP use of the amusement park. By 5PM, the group had returned to Surrey, all of them taken to Megan's house. When they made their way into the dark room, the lights were turned on, revealing the rest of the nurse staff, who had switched with the previous group for who got to work at the hospital, the parents of many of the girls he spent time with, and the other girls who were absent due to previous commitments, jobs, or the like.

" **SURPRISE!** "

The entire group sang happy birthday for Harry, and this time the boy had no real way to hide his tears, though they came mixed with a large grin and helped cleanse his soul of the confusion and inner conflict following him all day.

After putting out the candles, Harry cut the cake and distributed the slices, the first one going to Megan, before he made his way around the room, talking to most people.

He got pats on the back and shoulder by many, various different presents, from books and colognes, to clothes, belts, shoes and the like.

To his surprise, he got pulled aside by the SGA, or ' _Surrey Girls' Alliance_ ', more affectionately known as either ' _Harry's Harem_ ' or ' _The Collective_ ', and got his mind absolutely blown when he got either a kiss, or a proper snog, from each and every one of the girls, ending the night with bruised lips, and a goofy grin on his face, though the adults liked the boy too much to do anything about this.

Most men were actually hesitating in the 'hurt her and they'll never find the corpse' speech they prepared as soon as they discovered their child was a girl, since the boy was so good that they didn't think he deserved that.

By the end of the night, Harry was driven home, claiming to have been tired after accidentally listening into the girls' plans for a 'sleepover', since he didn't want to disrespect the home of his hosts with what he presumed would happen, and didn't want to die of a heart-attack from the things a few of the girls had all but promised to do to him for the entire night.

When he walked into Privet Drive - He even had his own set of keys now! - Harry was surprised to find a small cake on top of the table, the frosting saying 'Happy Birthday Harry', and a giftbox.

"I called your friend, Hermione, and asked about what to give you."

Harry was badly startled by Petunia's voice sounding from the Kitchen door. The woman continued speaking.

"She suggested a few of _those_ books, and since we couldn't get them ourselves... She got them for us and sent them by owl. We just had to send her the money for them. She also sent this for you."

As she finished speaking, Petunia gave Harry what seemed to be a gift-wrapped bundle, the tag saying "From Hermione, to Harry". The wrapping paper was a green equal to his eye colour, and had white stars patterned all over it. Harry tore through the wrapping paper, revealing a leatherbound, hard-cover book, a title engraved into it in gold lettering.

'Our Memory book'

Harry opened the book, and trapped between the cover and the first page was a note from Hermione.

' _Dear Harry, Happy Birthday! I hope you have/had a great day, today!_

 _It was a surprise when your aunt called, and now I can understand what you meant about them behaving strangely, but enough about that._

 _This note is about my gift. Now, don't be confused. This isn't a trap, and attempt at making you *shudder* study._

 _No, it's a very special, enchanted book. It's made based on a these things called 'Pensieves', which are special artifacts where you can drop memories into to re-live them. Instead of allowing you to drop a memory and relive it, this book has copies of some of my best memories involving you, kind of like wizarding photos._

 _I hope you enjoy it, Harry._ '

Harry caressed the cover of the book again, this time even more reverence in his action, before flipping over the page. The first photograph of the first page was during first year, when he had jumped on the back of a troll to save her, before Ron subdued it.

He flipped the page over, and spotted the ' _We could've been killed, or worse, expelled_ ' moment.

He kept flipping, more memories of their friendship eternalized into the book.

Their hug at the end of first year, when he was cleared from the hospital wing.

Their hug at the end of second year in the middle of the great hall, when Hermione got unpetrified.

Their ride on Buckbeak in third year, with Hermione hugging him around the waist...

Harry smiled widely at that, tears prickling, once again today, in the corners of his eyes. Putting the memory book down for now, Harry opened the present Petunia had gotten him, revealing various books, from ' _Groomer's Games: 1001 spells to mantain your appearance_ ', to ' _Wizarding Law and You: How to Work in, outside of and around the System_ ', to an older-looking tome, the title being ' _Magicks Moste Mindeful_ '.

Harry organized all of the books on top of the table, releasing them and surprising both himself and Petunia when he wrapped his arms around the woman's torso, and whispered lowly.

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia."

Petunia Dursley also felt emotion fill her veins, tears filling her eyes, and she couldn't give an answer other than hug him back tighter.

At the end of the night, it was an emotionally wrung out Harry that went back to bed.

 _ **-A few days later-**_

Harry seemed to be... restless today. Petunia noticed, from his seat on the chair, the way he kept fidgeting, his face constantly changing as if he were fighting an internal battler. Knowing about the infatuation of the entire Surrey region with one Harry Potter, Petunia decided to speak up.

"You don't have to go, you know. You could stay until the end of summer with us, if you'd like to."

Harry was broken out of his thoughts, shaking his head a bit before speaking up.

"No, I'll go. I already told everyone that I'd be going for a while, and I'll be able to meet Hermione, and the Weasleys, and personally thank them for their gifts."

"This Hermione girl" Petunia started normally, before her tone turned somewhat subdued, and introspective "She reminds me a bit of Lily. Take care of her properly, okay?"

Harry nodded seriously, before the clock struck 2 PM, and Arthur, Fred and George Weasley were deposited on the backgarden of the Dursley family home. They were allowed into the home, and the eyes of both Arthur, and the twins, widened at the view of Harry, with the Weasley patriarch speaking first.

"Harry! You look... great! You grew like a week right there."

Harry smiled ruefully at the three redheads, before responding.

"Hello to you too, Mr. Weasley. Gred. Forge."

At seeing the twin's smiles, Harry sent them a thumbs up, before Arthur spoke up.

"Harry, do you have everything you'll need with you? Are you good to go?"

Harry tilted his head to the side, thinking those words over, before shaking his head.

"No, I'm not good to go yet."

To the surprise of the Weasley twins, Harry pulled Petunia into a heartfelt hug that she responded equally as intense, before Vernon, surly as always, shook Harruy's hand. He surprised Dudley when he pulled the boy in after their handshake and gave him a half-hug, discouraging the Weasley twins from using some inventions around the house.

Having finished that, Harry turned around to look at Arthur Weasley,

"I'm ready, Mr. Weasley."

With a nod, Arthur put a hand on Harry, before Fred and George touched each of his legs. With a squeezing, sucking sensation, Harry Potter was away from No. 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey.

 _ **-Scene-**_

 **Hope you enjoy.**


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